


Surrender

by ancslove



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coercion, Dark Magic, Emotional Manipulation, Gang Rape, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Public Use, Rape as a show of power, Spitroasting, Spoils of War, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/pseuds/ancslove
Summary: A young and innocent prince is taken captive after his kingdom is defeated in war.  His ambitious captor introduces him to his new life.





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MotherHulda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherHulda/gifts).



All was lost. It had been his first, and likely last, battle, and he’d lost. The royal army had defended the king and his family valiantly, but it wasn’t enough. The invading forces had swept the field, slaughtering all in their path, before stopping in front of the high stone walls that surrounded and protected the citadel. At first, General Horace had hoped that the carnage was over, that the walls which had safeguarded the heart of Allandria for generations would hold firm, and the people could settle in to outlast a siege. Dark sorcery simply melted away the walls, and the enemy surged forward, taking the inhabitants by surprise during the night.

Lucian, youngest Prince of Allandria, had been deemed too young to risk during the original battle, but he’d heeded the alarm after the walls fell. He blooded his sword in the first minutes of the final fight, but soon found himself facing a seemingly unstoppable warrior. Smoky black armour concealed the warrior’s body and shadowed his face. Armed with a sword in one hand and mace in the other, his weapons seemed to almost glow with dark intent. Lucian swung, and then swung again, knowing he was outmatched. An almost lazy parry, and then a counter-attack sent Lucian’s sword flying and knocked him to the ground. A heavy foot stomped on his outstretched arm, fingers still grasping fruitlessly for his weapon, and the duel was over.

“Yield!”

Lucian obeyed.

* * *

 

He stayed pliant as his captor bound his wrists in front of him, then stumbled forward as he was tugged through the burning citadel. Around him, others were being rounded up, bound and leashed as he was. Young boys and girls, his age and smaller; women screaming their fear; men who’d surrendered as he had. He could not find his father or brothers, and was afraid to look for them too closely. Lucian closed his eyes against the flames devouring homes and shrines and the toppling towers of the conquered royal palace.

Eventually, the forced march drew to a halt, and Lucian found himself being shoved to his knees. Opening his eyes, he saw that a veritable forest of vertical posts, of the same smoky black metal as his captor’s armour, had been erected in the field. His captor yanked his head back and then dragged him up by the hair, forcing his back against one of the posts. His arms were pulled above his head and secured, leaving him to dangle humiliatingly from his bound wrists. Dimly, Lucian wondered why the warrior had bothered to prostrate him, only to immediately change his mind. The thought was so absurdly inconsequential, his mind gave a hysterical laugh. A harsh backhand across his face shocked him back to his present reality.

“State your name, rank, and age.”

Lucian drew himself up as best as he could. He would represent his people with pride and courage. “Lucian, sixteen, Prince of Allandria.”

“Well, Your Highness, this is a happy surprise.” An unpleasant smile crossed the warrior’s face. “I am Corvan, Lord of the Eastern Isles and Champion of King Villius, and I claim you as my prize!”

Lucian’s heart dropped. He knew Corvan’s name, everyone on the continent knew it. An undefeated warrior who was rumored to have sold his soul in exchange for battlefield glory, who claimed mastery of the dark arts as well as sword and spear. They said he knew nothing of mercy or decency. Lucian’s breath quickened. What would be his fate? Would he be summarily killed? Would that be the kindest destiny he could receive at this man’s hands? Would he be tortured and disfigured, shown life’s horrors before he’d even begun to comprehend life’s joys? Made into a kind of scapegoat, suffering in place of his kingdom?

A coil of blackened gold, at once ephemeral and strong as steel, looped and tightened around Lucian’s neck, commanding his attention.

“Pay attention, little one. The life you knew is over. Allandria is defeated, and after today, no one else will dare stand against the Vale. You aren’t a prince anymore, but if you do as commanded, without struggle, you will survive. Tonight, you will stay out here with the other prisoners, and adjust to your new place in life. Should you survive the night, your new life begins on the morrow.”

Lucian swallowed against the magic rope still around his neck. “What will happen to me then? What do you want from me?”

Corvan’s hand shot out to grasp his chin, fingers squeezing cruelly, tilting his head from side to side as Lucian struggled. “You become mine. You will address me as ‘My Lord’ or ‘Master’ and only when I allow you to speak. You will serve me as I require, and I can think of many uses for one as pretty and healthy as you, and royalty to boot! But first, you will be publicly stripped of your station, and reborn as my slave.”

Lucian paled and opened his mouth to – to what? To protest? Beg, and hope the warrior for once showed mercy? Shout or scream? Before he could form words, his mouth was sealed shut by a mysterious force. Eyes wide, Lucian stared at his captor in mute panic.

“No more words, little one. You and your countrymen may mourn your past lives tonight. Tomorrow, after your induction as my slave, we ride for the Vale. I suggest you rest while you can.”

* * *

 

Dawn arrived much too quickly, on the heels of a restless sleep. A heavy hand falling across his cheek woke Lucian from his daze. Opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with the King of the Vale and new conqueror of Allandria. Villius stared down at him, cold eyes raking over his form in such a way that left Lucian squirming in discomfort. Beside him, Lord Corvan smiled proudly.

“My Lord King, I present to you Lucian, youngest Prince of Allandria, and I claim him as my trophy.”

“Well done, my friend. He is lovely. Have you had him yet?”

“No, my lord. I thought to wait until the presentation.”

“Very good. I’m sure my lords will find it a very enjoyable ceremony today.”

Lucian frowned, confused and apprehensive. He wondered what his slave presentation would entail, and how many would participate in his degradation. Behind the two men, he could see an ornate table, around which stood a dozen men clad in either armour or finery. Beyond them, the army of the Vale gathered, murmuring amongst themselves. Around him, his fellow countrymen hung, bound and magically silent as he was. Lucian shivered as he realized just how public his enslavement was going to be.

Suddenly, the ropes around his wrists snapped, and he dropped to the ground, falling in a heap at Lord Corvan’s feet. Corvan’s strong hand pulled him upright and held him in place as King Villius proclaimed his fate.

“Allandria is fallen, and its royal family is no more! They will now be forevermore servants of the Vale. We will begin with the youngest, Lucian. Once a prince of Allandria, I now gift him to my finest champion Lord Corvan of the Eastern Isles, to be his property.”

Hands began pulling at his garments, tearing open his tunic and ripping off his trousers. Lucian struggled desperately as he was stripped bare, then flushed with shame as Corvan exposed him to the world. He felt the magic over his mouth dissipate, as he was forced to his knees and once more commanded to yield. Unable to look up at friend or foe, Lucian submitted, and hoped his humiliation was over.

It wasn’t. At a gesture from Corvan, a group of soldiers stepped forward and new hands seized him and dragged him to the table. Lucian fought and screamed, “Please! Please don’t! I yielded! My Lord, please don’t kill me!”

Corvan’s answering smile chilled him to the bone, though his words seemed almost kind. “No one is going to kill you, boy. You yielded to me, and now I make you _mine_.”

The soldiers bent him over the table and pinned his arms down. His legs were pulled apart, and suddenly Lucian knew what was going to happen. He kicked and struggled, begging for mercy. “Please, My Lord, don’t do this! I’ll do anything you want! I’ll scrub your floors, serve your meals, anything else.” Too terrified to be ashamed of his unabashed begging, Lucian pleaded desperately, “Please, I’m a virgin!”

The soldiers and lords around him laughed, Corvan loudest of all. “Good, boy. I’m your first, and this will seal my claim on you forever.”

Stepping between his legs, Corvan began to run his hands up and down Lucian’s flanks. Lucian was breathing so quickly, he thought – hoped – he would pass out. But such luck was not to be his. The hands continued exploring his body, squeezing his hips and then groping upward to pinch his nipples. More hands grabbed his legs and spread them wide. Lucian didn’t dare look up as he felt men crowd around him.   A blunt hardness pressed against his exposed hole, and Lucian held his breath.

He screamed when Corvan surged forward, and kept screaming when the thrusts continued. The men around him laughed.

“You must be a virgin. So tight. You feel so good around my cock, almost in now. Only a couple more inches to go. Take it, slave!”

Lucian moaned, certain that he couldn’t take any more. Pain seared through him with every push forward. Finally, Corvan stilled, and Lucian dared to breathe again.

“Ready, slave? Ready to be fucked?”

Lucian’s screams resumed as Corvan began to move again. Thrusting in and out, tearing him open. The pain was dizzying, but unconsciousness eluded him. Around him, men rubbed their own cocks as they taunted him. Calling him slut and whore. Fucktoy. Rape-slave. The ugly names were almost as painful as the rape. Corvan grunted over him, withdrawing almost completely and then plunging rapidly back in.

A hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head up, and something hot and hard slapped his face. Again, and then again, and again. Villius stood over him, cock hard and dripping, slapping against Lucian’s cheeks.

“Open up, slave. Time to serve your new king.”

When the heavy cock shoved inside his mouth, Lucian choked, struggling as the head butted against the back of his throat. Fingers clenched in his hair and began forcing his head up and down the thick shaft.

“Suck me, whore. Show your people that you are now my loyal subject.”

The reminder of his countrymen, his family, watching his degradation dissolved the last remnants of his pride, and Lucian sobbed. Above him, Corvan continued to plunder him, biting down now on his back and shoulders, causing even more pain. In front of him, the king used his mouth ruthlessly, uncaring as Lucian coughed and gagged.

Corvan’s thrusts picked up speed. Finally, he came, spraying deep inside his victim’s body. Lucian screamed around the cock in his mouth, and the king thrust forward, burying himself to the root in Lucian’s mouth and holding Lucian’s head firmly in place. Lucian choked and sputtered as the king filled his mouth with his seed.

“You belong to me now,” Corvan whispered, voice gruff with the aftermath of his pleasure. “You’ll spend each night impaled on my cock. My little royal whore, you’ll bring me great prestige. I’ll trade your body for favors and wealth, and all will know that you are mine.”

Lucian shuddered and wept. Corvan had spoken truly yesterday, his life was over. He was now nothing more than an object to be owned and used.

Corvan wasn’t finished. “I predict you’ll be a great hit at court, with your pretty face and tight little hole. My powers will preserve your fresh beauty for a long time. And in time, you will bear my heir.”

Lucian’s breath hitched in surprise, and Corvan laughed. “Yes, my slave-consort. My magic will breed you when the occasion is right, and my legacy will be secure. But first, sweetheart, my friends are eager to try you, and the soldiers deserve a royal treat for their work yesterday.”

A cheer arose from the waiting army, and Lucian moaned weakly. “Please, my lord,” he begged. “Please, no more. Not again.”

“Yes, again, as is our tradition. Don’t worry, you’ll survive it.”

The words were damning signal. Lucian screamed hoarsely as men swarmed him, the lords and generals first. Flipped onto his back, head hanging off the table and legs held in the air, he was impaled on two new cocks. More cocks were forced into his hands, with orders to stimulate them. Hands groped and teeth bit down. Ropes of come splattered on his chest and face. Lucian sobbed as the violation continued. He didn’t know how long it lasted, or how many used his body for their pleasure. At one point, he screamed to Corvan for mercy, but his new master merely looked on imperviously. By the time it finished, the sun hung low in the sky, but Lucian could barely see it. His mind was dull with shock, and his face almost completely obscured with semen.

* * *

 

Strong arms pulled him from the table and cradled him gently. That tenderness, the first that Lucian had received since before his city fell, broke down his remaining strength. Lucian cried into Corvan’s chest.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart. Such a good whore, you did well. You’ll be the perfect slave. Now, now, you survived, just as I said you would.”

Lucian nodded, overwhelmed and in shock, barely able to understand. Gentle fingers cleaned his face and smoothed back his filthy hair.

“You’ll never forget this day, my pet. Never. I’ll ensure it. Every touch, every thrust, every mouthful of come that you swallowed today.”

Lucian whimpered, and then felt soft lips press against his own. A foreign tongue slipped inside his mouth, exploring and claiming, rather than ravaging and choking. Soft, where the others had been hard and cruel. Lucian sighed into the kiss, only half conscious.

“You’re mine, my beautiful whore.”

Lucian nodded again, responding to the gentle tone.

“And, my slave.”

Lucian blinked up at him.

Corvan continued, “Should you ever disobey your master, this will be your punishment. Do you understand me? You can be my prized slave, warm my bed, and bear my son. Or, you can be the camp fucktoy for the rest of your long and miserable existence.”

Lucian trembled. The voice and words were harsh now, and he wanted to bring the gentleness back.

“Do you understand, whore?”

“Yes,” Lucian promised. “I do.”

“My good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was a pleasure to write for you, and I hope you enjoyed your gift!


End file.
